A NEWSBOY'S STORY.
"Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these, my brethren, ye have done it unto me."—Matthew xxv. 40.
The snow was falling in great big flakes,
As white as the sugar they sift on cakes.
And the wind it took you by surprise,
And made you shiver and blink your eyes.
So fierce and angry-like it blew,
You'd have almost thought it was mad at you.
And Joe and me were awful cold,
And only half of our papers sold.
And we were hungry and tired, too,
And Joe's little fingers were nearly blue.
For we'd been out in the cold so long,
And Joe has never been over strong.
But Joe he ain't the chap to complain,
You see, he's used to bearing pain.
And many a time when he's feeling bad,
He'll whistle away as if he was glad—
When another youngster would be in tears;
He's a plucky chap for seven years.
Well, this here night he whistled away,
As white as the sugar they sift on cakes.
And the wind it took you by surprise,
And made you shiver and blink your eyes.
So fierce and angry-like it blew,
You'd have almost thought it was mad at you.
And Joe and me were awful cold,
And only half of our papers sold.
And we were hungry and tired, too,
And Joe's little fingers were nearly blue.
For we'd been out in the cold so long,
And Joe has never been over strong.
But Joe he ain't the chap to complain,
You see, he's used to bearing pain.
And many a time when he's feeling bad,
He'll whistle away as if he was glad—
When another youngster would be in tears;
He's a plucky chap for seven years.
Well, this here night he whistled away,
77
